


The Interview

by ThereBeWhalesHere



Series: Stories about Shine [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay, Grief/Mourning, HIV/AIDS, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18516910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereBeWhalesHere/pseuds/ThereBeWhalesHere
Summary: It should have been meHe’s not the first person Shine has lost, nor the closest. Hell, they haven’t seen each other in years. But his death — the way he died — hurts. It’s not just the loss of the man, but the realization of Shine’s own mistakes. He wants to deserve the fame he’s cultivated, the love he’s found in his partner Valen, the health he enjoys after years of abusing his body. But how can he deserve it when better men than him fall to the epidemic every day?Set in 1986, New York CityThis story is part of my seriesStories about Shineand specifically mentions the events ofThe Silence After Songand others. You can understand this if you haven’t read the rest of the series, but it won’t make quite as much sense.





	The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this one. I’ve been holding off on posting it for so long. I wrote it months ago and have been revising it intermittently since, and I think I’ve worked harder on it than any other short story I’ve ever written? It was very important to me to get this right. As you can see from the tags, I’m dealing with some sensitive stuff here.
> 
> Thing is, all my Shine stories set during his fame are about a bisexual man living in the epicenter of the AIDS epidemic. It would be worse if I never addressed it, and if he were never affected by the fallout.
> 
> Thanks as always to my PERFECT wife for providing all of Valen’s dialogue and backstory! Shine is my boy; Valen is always going to be hers. <3

**March, 1986**

 

As always, Shine found a giddy kind of freedom in his occasional ability to walk the city streets without being immediately recognized. With his hood up to cover his hair and a pair of massive sunglasses to cover his eyes, he was nearly indistinguishable from any of the other early-spring Queens commuters, bustling through the wind with their heads down. If someone noticed or cared about the violin case strapped to his back, it might’ve been a different story, but bless New York City. No one looked sideways at a stranger unless they had to. 

 

He could’ve asked his driver, Claudia, to take him straight to the cemetery -- she’d shuttled him all the way to Queens, after all -- but he always made this trip on-foot after a point. He had his weekly routines, and a little bit of notoriety (okay, a  _ lot _ of notoriety) hadn’t changed that in six years.

 

Though a trip to Mount Zion Cemetery was a solemn one for most, Shine couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about visiting his ma’s grave today. Life was just _good_ lately. He had finished a successful session in the studio yesterday, making worthwhile progress on his next album, and tonight he’d be going over to Valen’s for dinner. _Valen_. His partner of five months. There hadn’t been updates on that front since Shine had seen his ma last week, but unlike everyone else he knew, she wouldn’t mind him repeating stories, gushing about the same things over and over again. And he was fully planning to gush, at least a little. His ma would’ve loved Valen if she had been around to meet him.

 

Besides all that, it was always fun walking through Maspeth, his old stomping grounds, no matter that he had made this walk nearly every week for six years. These modest buildings and pothole roads, the Yiddish language slipping out the open door of the butcher shop, Hebrew from the bakery, German from open apartment windows, all felt a thousand years and a day in his past at once.

 

Like always, he stopped by the shawarma cart a few blocks from the cemetery. Then, grease running down his chin as he wolfed it down, he headed toward the newsstand on the corner of 59th. He always picked up  _ The Village Voice _ to read to his ma, and always from this stand in particular. Its owner, Robbie, had been setting up in this neighborhood since Shine was a kid, out here on his stool, reading his magazines every day of the week. He might have been one of the few people on the street who knew exactly who Shine was no matter what disguise he wore, and one of the few who didn’t care. To Robbie, Shine would always be that snot-nosed brat that ran up and down the street with his friends, or played tuneless violin by the synagogue on Saturday afternoons, driving everyone in earshot crazy. 

 

Shine approached with a wave and a hearty “‘Mornin, Robbie,” around a mouthful of pita like he always did, and Robbie set the magazine he’d been reading in his lap.

 

“It’s past noon,” Robbie said, as he always did. Shine shoved the last of his meal between his lips and tossed the foil into the trashcan by Robbie’s stool.

 

“It’s mornin’ for me,” Shine replied in-kind around his mouthful, and turned his eyes to the stand. He could grab  _ The Voice _ on instinct now, without even looking, but he considered, as he wiped his greasy hands on his jacket, that he might pick something up for Valen, too. There might be some woodworking magazine or a  _ National Geographic  _ or something. If it looked boring to Shine, odds were Valen would be grateful for it.

 

But he didn't make it past the newspapers. Instead, his eyes caught like splinters on a  _ New York Times _ headline, his Friday smile slipping, then falling completely as the sidewalk seemed to shift under his feet.

 

Shine stared in silence at the paper for a few solid seconds, a gust of wind rushing past him and ruffling its pages. When it settled, the headline impossibly read the same. 

 

In sudden panic, Shine snatched the newspaper off the stand and held it an inch from his nose, turning against the wind, sure his eyes were deceiving him. Sometimes the mind did that, didn’t it? Blurred unfamiliar words into something more suited to the patterns of its neurons? Shine focused on the words, read each letter with burning intention.

 

**_Harold Patterson, Democratic senator for New York, dies at 47_ **

 

No matter how he stared, the words didn’t change.

 

**_Harold Patterson, Democratic senator for New York, dies at 47_ **

 

_ New York Sen. Harold Patterson passed away the night of March. 26 in a hospital in Washington D.C., _ the article read,  _ where his family claims he has been battling pneumonia. A spokeswoman from his office told  _ The Times _ that, due to his family’s concerns for privacy, details of the late senator’s medical condition have been withheld from the media. “They ask for time and space to grieve in private,” the spokeswoman said. She also denied reports that Sen. Patterson’s condition was related to the AIDS virus. “Those are baseless rumors, and the senator’s family will not tolerate any attempt by his political opponents to smear his good name.” _

_ A source from inside the Senator’s office, who spoke under the condition of anonymity, lent substance to the rumors, alluding to a private life … _

 

The words began to waver in his vision, letters jumbling, and it was only when he found himself unable to read that he realized his hands were quaking. Before he could steady them, or even think of what to do next, the newspaper fell to the concrete, the sound of the world fading away -- cars and wind and conversations and  _ everything _ numbing to a dim silence as he stood there, empty hands frozen in midair. 

 

Pneumonia. Harry wasn’t even 50 years old, and he was the healthiest man Shine had ever met until Valen. He hardly drank, never smoked. Men his age didn’t die of pneumonia alone. Men  _ like _ him didn’t die of pneumonia alone.

 

He said he was clean, last time Shine spoke with him. But that was three years and thousands of deaths ago. That was when the epidemic had just started its swift, powerful march across the country, before they knew what it even was, or what it would become. That was _ thousands _ of deaths ago. Deaths just like Harry’s.

 

Shine scanned the rest of the papers in a panic,  _ The Washington Post, The New York Post _ , every headline telling the same story, every photo bearing the same familiar face. 

 

_ Sen. Harold Patterson dies at D.C. hospital _

 

_ Harold Patterson, New York senator, dead amid AIDS rumors _

 

_ New York Sen. Harold Patterson dead _

 

The same story. Harry. Dead.

 

It was everywhere.

 

“Hey, kid,” a voice broke through the fog. “You gonna pay for that?” Shine turned to Robbie, who nodded to the ground where the paper lay, pages flying off in the wind.

 

Shine didn't know if he could respond. He stared at Robbie, that familiar figure blurring into two hazy forms. “Kid?” Robbie said again, voice a little softer. He stood from his stool and hitched his pants over a large belly as he waddled over. “Hey, are you okay?”

 

Shine put a hand to his head, lifting the other out in front of him to stop Robbie in his tracks. “Sorry,” he said, his voice echoing in his own ears. “Yeah, here, here.” Trembling, he slipped a hand in his pocket, pulled out the first bill he felt, and handed it to Robbie as he walked past the man in the direction he had come.  

 

He had to get to a payphone. Something. A store. Call Claudia and get the hell out of here.

 

But Harry wasn't just dead at that newsstand. He was dead  _ everywhere _ . And Shine didn’t think there was anywhere he could go to escape that simple truth.

 

If Robbie called after him, Shine didn’t hear. He didn’t hear anything. The same words kept cycling through his mind like a rapidly spinning record, stuck on the same track.

 

_ It should have been me. It should have been me. It should have been me. _

 

* * *

 

_ It should have been me. _

 

That's what Shine almost said when Valen opened the door, those green eyes widening at the unexpected sight of Shine on his doorstep. Valen looked scruffy, like he had missed his morning shave, with a sheen of sweat along his brow as if he had just been hard at work. He wore a heavy leather apron with tools poking out of the deep pockets, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up. 

 

In the car, Shine had hastily patched over his wounds so his driver wouldn’t notice he was shaken, going over in his mind a thousand things he wanted to say to Valen when he saw him.  _ I'm scared. I'm so tired of death. I can't believe it took him, too. I don't know what this means. I don't know what to do. It feels like he's left me all over again. _

 

_ It should have been me.  _

 

Saying anything of the sort would have kicked Shine into a downward spiral of memories and regrets, too many to shove into Valen’s lap when even  _ Shine _ didn’t know the breadth and depth of them. Not yet. 

 

Instead of giving voice to any of those tumultuous thoughts at the sight of his boyfriend, Shine forced a wan smile to his lips, knowing it didn’t make it any farther than that. “Hey, big guy,” he said quietly. A nickname that had once been generic, had once meant Harry and a good handful of guys before and after him. A nickname that seemed to belong to Valen now, as if it had always been meant for him. Tears threatened to well up in Shine’s eyes, so he blinked them back, ready to blame it on the wind if Valen happened to notice.

 

“Well hello there, gorgeous,” Valen said in a deadpan, leaning against the door frame. “You lost? If you’re lookin’ for the village of beautiful people you’re gonna need to go up the hill a ways.” He nodded behind him, and Shine’s strained smile softened somewhat.

 

“I think I already found it,” Shine said. “And you must be their king.” He reached out a hand and Valen took it, leading him through the door. 

 

“Ay, that I am not. I am but a humble woodworker, unfit for the lands of the beautiful fae,” Valen said, and Shine let out a half-hearted laugh, shoving Valen’s arm gently as he stepped into the studio and Valen shut the door behind him.

 

“Well I’ll be the judge of that, Mister,” Shine said, turning around to face him.

 

“And who are you, then? Can’t be my boyfriend. He’s not supposed to be here for another five hours. You know, after I’ve had a chance to shave, and shower, and get ahead on my work a little.”

 

Shine didn't know what time it was. However long it took for Claudia to pick him up, however long it took to drive from Maspeth to Yonkers. However long it took for him to decide to get out of the car in front of Valen's studio. It had taken him a  _ long  _ time to decide to get out of the car.

 

Shine’s smile slipped, and Valen’s followed, a gentle look of concern rising in its place. “I, ah, I wanted to see you is all.” Shine said. “Guess I wasn’t keeping track of the time. If --” he swallowed, “if you're busy, or--”

 

“No, no,” Valen said, bringing a hand to Shine's arm and stroking him gently. “That door is always open to you. You know that much, I hope.” He didn’t ask. Was he going to ask? Shine wasn't sure but he knew he didn't want him to. 

 

_ Let me pretend it's okay, _ he thought desperately.  _ Please. _

 

Moving a little closer, Valen leaned down, taking Shine’s lips in a gentle kiss. It purged a little of Shine’s momentary displacement, panic. Everything in the world felt still when Valen kissed him like that.

 

“I was about to put the kettle on,” Valen suggested as he drew away, “if you want a bit of afternoon tea.”

 

Shine brought a hand up to cup Valen’s cheek. “Lemme guess. English breakfast?”

 

Valen lifted up his chin in a show of offense. “You know there is nothing of that here,” he said, and Shine leaned up, pressing his lips to Valen’s scowl.

 

“I was only playing, big guy. Tea’d be nice.” Valen squeezed Shine’s hand gently, then nodded toward the kitchen past the showroom floor.

 

“Have you eaten?” Valen asked in his motherly sort of way, “I can fix you up something while I’m in the kitchen.” He tugged Shine forward and released his hand as he wove through the studio’s showpieces -- all those elegantly shining tables and cabinets, a labyrinth of gleaming wood.

 

Shine followed. “Oh, yeah, no I’m good. Had shawarma over in Maspeth.”

 

Valen nodded. He would know Shine was usually at his mother’s grave about now on Fridays. Shine's early arrival would be a mystery on a number of levels. “Are you going to tell me?” Valen asked carefully.

 

“Tell you what?” Shine replied evasively. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders up, the smile gone now that Valen wasn’t looking. It didn’t usually take this much effort to keep his smile on, but of course he didn’t usually feel like someone had taken an ice cream scoop to his insides, hollowing him out.

 

“What’s weighing on your mind. Something brought you over early,” Valen said casually. “I’m not complaining, mind.” They entered the kitchen past the studio, and Shine leaned against the counter as Valen went to the stove where a little iron kettle sat on one of the burners.

 

“Maybe I just wanted to see you,” Shine said. Valen cast a little look over his shoulder, and Shine scrunched up, looking away. “If you gotta get your work done or somethin, that’s fine,” he said. “I just figured I could hang out here for a while. Stay outta your way if you’re busy.”

 

Valen paused on his way to the sink, but it was brief. By the time Shine looked back over to him, he had his head down, filling the kettle. “I’m not,” Valen said, but he was a terrible liar. One of the worst. It was one thing Shine loved about him -- though he loved many things about him. Too many things for having only known him five months. And standing here in the kitchen with him Shine realized with the suddenness of a punch to the gut how large a hole Valen would leave in the world if he were gone, the way everyone left a hole in the world eventually.

 

Shine cleared his throat, turning around and moving toward the little table off in the corner. He tapped his fingers on its surface a couple times, but didn’t sit down. “If you’re sure,” he said. “But you know, I ain’t gonna put you out or nothing. You just do whatever you’d normally do, and I’ll be right here.”

 

Behind him, Valen settled the kettle on the stove, then Shine heard his unmistakable footfalls on the tile as he approached. “You’re more than welcome to treat this place as yer own. But -- but do ya really want me to go back to workin’ Mrs. Johanson’s chest of drawers and listening to NPR? I’m not sure that you do.” His hand came to rest on the small of Shine’s back, and Shine turned around, looking up into those bright eyes and feeling something in him melt a little.

 

He gave Valen what he could of a smile. “Alright so that doesn’t sound like the  _ most  _ fun in the world,” Shine admitted, and of course it would be best for him to avoid any hint of the news right now. But he didn’t want to go anywhere. Didn’t want to do anything, really. He just wanted to be  _ here _ . “Any other ideas?” he asked, a little lost. Entirely lost.

 

“My old TV box might be able to pick up some of those ‘stories’ you watch.” Valen suggested, and Shine shifted closer against Valen, burying his nose in Valen’s shirt. Two big arms came around his shoulders and held him there, and Shine breathed in that familiar scent of sweat and sawdust.

 

“That sounds real good, big guy,” Shine mumbled, and Valen held him a little tighter. 

 

“Whatever we do, I should shower and shave, can’t be strutting about looking downright piratical,” Valen said, as if he’d taken note of Shine breathing him in like he was a particularly long-missed cigarette.

 

“Don’t you dare shave,” Shine said, pulling back and holding Valen at the waist. “I ain’t never seen you scruffy before.” He stroked the stubble of Valen’s cheek and chin.

 

“Ay, there is a good reason for that.” Valen said with a huff of a laugh. “But alright, I’ll stay prickly. You want my kisses to feel like a punishment? Have it your way, beautiful lad.” 

 

Shine leaned up to kiss him once more, without a hint of hesitation at the promised punishment. He threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of Valen’s neck, pulled himself close, and held that solid body against him. In this moment, he felt safe. Grounded. It was temporary, a band-aid on a bleeding wound, but it was enough.

 

* * *

 

After a good few hours of empty daytime TV, Shine wasn’t sure if he felt better, or if he had just pushed all the bad feelings to the very back of his brain, where he didn’t have to think about them. But he’d spent a while laying literally on top of his huge boyfriend, like a cat sleeping in a dog-sized bed, and now that huge boyfriend was bustling around the kitchen making their scheduled dinner. Valen had nurtured a sense of safety in Shine, and it hadn’t disappeared yet.

 

Shine watched Valen move around, recognizing any attempt to help on his part would be more counterproductive than anything, but feeling restless without distraction.

 

“So what are ya makin’ again, big guy?” Shine asked, tracing patterns on the tabletop with his fingertip.

 

“A chest of drawers,” Valen said. “With a music box built in, for Mrs. Johanson’s daughter’s wedding.”

 

Shine snorted. Clearly Valen’s mind was on work. “No, I mean for dinner, ya goon.” 

 

“Aye, that’s what it is,” Valen said with a smile Shine could hear in his voice, even if Valen wasn’t turned his way. “A chest of drawers. Welcome to my home, Shine. Where we eat tacks and wood.”

 

“I’m pretty good at eatin’ wood,” Shine put in, and Valen let out a sound that might have been a constricted laugh. 

 

“You're incorrigible! Relentless!” he said, pointing an accusatory wooden spoon over his shoulder. Shine smiled and ducked his head. “If you must be ruining the surprise,” Valen turned with a self satisfied smile, “I thought we’d have my special potato soup. And -- now here is where the fun begins -- served in homemade bread bowls.” 

 

Shine smiled at him, at the pride in Valen’s voice. For as wonderful a woodworker as he was, Valen may have missed his calling as a chef. 

 

“I figured,” Valen continued, and his expression shifted almost imperceptibly. “You know, I was in the mood for -- for comfort food. Something heavy and indulgent. Packed full of potatoes and cheese.” 

 

_ Shit _ , Shine thought, his grin slipping. After a few hours he had figured he’d done a pretty good job pretending nothing was wrong, but he was as bad a liar as Valen was.

 

“Right,” Shine said. “ _ You  _ was in the mood for comfort food.”

 

“And if that shouldn’t fit your fancy,” Valen said quickly, turning back to the stove as if that might prevent Shine seeing through him. “How about a tart for dessert? I’ll make ya any flavor you’d like, so long as it’s blueberry and pomegranate, which is currently chilling in the refrigerator.”

 

Shine huffed, leaning back in his chair and looking down at the table.

 

“Sounds perfect, big guy,” he said, and he swallowed something hard. Valen was going out of his way for him today. He had been  _ all _ day. And Shine hadn’t even told him why. It wasn’t fair. They hadn't been dating near long enough for Shine to expect Valen to go along with all the ups and downs of his rollercoaster of a life.

 

But Valen did anyway. That was who he was.

 

“So,” Shine said, trying to turn his mind back to the present, the only place it was allowed to be right now. “Tell me ‘bout these drawers and shit? Whatcha makin’ it out of? When’s the wedding?”

 

Valen smiled over his shoulder. “You really want to know?” 

 

Of course, he did. Valen could have talked his ear off about anything right now and Shine would consider it a blessing, but this? Especially this would make Valen happy. And that alone would make Shine happy. At least, happi _ er _ . Happy, full-stop, would have to come later.

 

“On the edge of my seat,” Shine assured him.

 

* * *

 

As he cooked, and over dinner, Valen did end up telling Shine all about the order, and the others waiting in his queue. He told Shine about this sweet lady and her daughter, about how he’d given them a discount just because they were nice to him. And Shine ignored all the other thoughts in his head in favor of watching Valen cook, and watching him across the table as they dug in. Valen seemed to know that, for once, Shine didn’t much feel like talking, so he filled the silence until their bread bowls were empty and half-eaten themselves, and Shine was leaning back in his seat, patting his full belly.

 

Soon, there would be dessert, and then -- then Shine supposed he would have to go home. To his empty apartment. Alone.

 

“So I was thinkin’,” Valen started, “before we dig into the tart -- maybe digest a little --” he laughed, patting his own belly with his own large hand, and Shine smiled at him. “I could run down to the drug store. Get you a toothbrush and whatever else ya might need.”

 

“For… for what?” Shine asked, an eyebrow going up. He didn't want to believe Valen was suggesting --

 

“Well, I was assuming,” Valen said, “if you were stayin’ the night...”

 

A beat passed and Shine’s heart tripped over itself as Valen’s words broke through the walls he had erected in his head.  _ Staying the night _ . Would Valen let him?

 

“Hey now,” Shine said, trying not to show his gratitude too plainly on his face, “isn’t it your personal motto not to presume nothing?”

 

“It was,” Valen agreed, “but if I recall it was you who told me to presume whenever I pleased. Congratulations, you single-handedly destroyed my core value.”

 

Shine laughed, reaching across the table and finding Valen’s hand. He laced their fingers together. “I’m so proud,” Shine said. “And yeah, I -- if you don’t mind me spending the night and all. I know we ain’t done that very much but --”

 

“It’s alright,” Valen said. He squeezed Shine’s hand. “Now, do you need anything but a toothbrush? Something fancy for your hair in the morning?” His eyes flicked up to Shine’s hair, which was admittedly always styled to perfection if he planned to be in public.

 

“No,” Shine said, “no I ain’t gonna need nothing special. ‘Sides I doubt you could get my products at the drug store.”

 

“Products? Plural?” Valen’s eyes widened, and Shine laughed, bringing Valen’s hand to his lips to lay a little kiss on his fingertips. 

 

“Just the toothbrush is good, big guy,” Shine said. 

 

Valen’s gentle smile made Shine’s heart pound against his ribs. “Alright,” he said. “I won’t be long, but I’m fully expecting you to poke around my drawers and the like. Try on my boxers, do whatever it is you do.”

 

“Good,” Shine said with a little laugh, releasing Valen’s hand. “Boxer drawer was first on my list.”

 

“You can even read my diary, if you can find it,” Valen offered. He stood, taking their plates and walking them toward the sink. 

 

Shine wheeled his chair around, its legs scraping against the tile loudly. “Excuse me?” he said. “You keep a diary?”

 

“Every day of my life,” Valen said brightly, and Shine looked around as if it might appear on the kitchen counter beside the cutting board or the empty bag of potatoes. 

 

“Where?”

 

“I can’t just  _ tell  _ you,” Valen said, turning back to him and leaning against the sink, looking smug. “That’d take all the fun out of it, wouldn’t it?”

 

“Can you give me a hint?”

 

“It’s in something wooden.”

 

Shine sank down in his chair. “Damn,” he said, though he wasn’t nearly as disappointed as he pretended. He doubted he would actually do  _ anything _ while Valen was out. Most likely he'd sit and wait and look at the pictures on Valen's dresser and think about anything but the thoughts he had so far managed to push to the side. If he  _ could _ find Valen’s diary, well, so much the better.

 

Anything for a bit of distraction. Bless everything about this man; Valen seemed to understand that was exactly what Shine needed.

 

* * *

 

That night, as Shine lay with his head on Valen’s chest, wrapped in one of Valen’s over-large flannel shirts and -- more importantly -- one of Valen’s arms curled warm around his shoulder, he thought he might tell him. The whole story. From the first time he locked eyes with Harry in that subway station a decade ago, to the last time he saw him in 1982, his back retreating into the muggy July night with a violin case clutched in his hand.

 

But somehow the words never really came.

 

“Will you be able to sleep tonight?” Valen asked quietly, as if he didn’t really want to bring it up but couldn’t stop himself.

 

“What, if I say ‘no’ you gonna read me a bedtime story?” Shine asked, snuggling in closer.

 

“I could,” Valen said. “What would you like? Dickens will put you right to sleep.”

 

Shine sighed. “Believe it or not, big guy, I’m not in the mood for a dicking right now.”

 

Valen huffed, and Shine’s head bounced with the movement of his chest. “ _ Dickens _ , that English fuck who wouldn't know brevity if it came up and bit him in the arse.”

 

“Sounds awful,” Shine said with a laugh. “But it’s okay, big guy. We can just lay here.”

 

Valen’s arm tightened around him.

 

“Alright,” he said, and he reached over and shut off the bedside table lamp. His lips gravitated to Shine’s head, and he placed a solid kiss to his crown. Shine figured, if either of them had dared to say it yet, this is where Valen might let out a soft, casual ‘I love you,’ or Shine might do the same. But Shine had promised himself he’d wait for Valen to say it first. It would happen in time. Everything with Valen happened in time.

 

And the two of them had begun to learn how to say it in other ways. Shine wrapping his arm around Valen’s chest and curling tighter around him, Valen breathing soft and warm into his hair.

 

* * *

 

During the day the next day, Valen seemed to understand that Shine hoped to stick around for a little while. After breakfast, Shine wrapped himself in Valen’s bathrobe and watched Valen work on that chest of drawers throughout the morning, while Shine cradled a cup of coffee and sat on Valen’s workbench. Though Shine rattled on about his own work and Valen’s, asking questions, filling the silence with mindless prattle, Valen never told him to shut up or leave him to it. Rather, he let Shine talk, and talked to him, all the while carving tiny flowers into the wood. 

 

In the afternoon, they watched TV for a couple of hours, then laid on the couch after dinner listening to music (The only records Valen had were big-band tunes and Shine’s own albums, so Shine got well acquainted with Glenn Miller).

 

And they went to bed again, comfortable and content, and Valen held him close all night like he knew what Shine needed.

 

All the while, into the night and the next morning, Sunday, Shine’s brain kept working in the background like a shadow. What he could do, what he could say, what the world might be like when he stepped over the threshold of Valen’s doorway and back into his life. He had a recording session on Monday he couldn’t miss, a meeting with Martha he had to arrange, and as they finished dinner on Sunday evening, he felt the end of his little fantasy encroaching like a thick, wet fog. He almost stopped Valen from bringing their dishes to the sink, almost asked him to stay right there at the table so time might stop around them.

 

Valen would always be here, Shine knew, and Valen himself had said his doors were always open. But Shine couldn’t pretend much longer that they were the only two beings that existed in the world.

 

So while Valen cleaned up, Shine stared at his hands, and made a decision.

 

“Hey, big guy,” he said, and Valen shut off the sink, turning to him.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Can … can we go to the drug store real quick?”

 

* * *

 

This time of year, the air grew chilly once the sun set, but it wasn’t unbearable. And Valen had a whole host of sweaters big and cozy enough for Shine to get lost in. And, this time of year, the skies were usually pretty clear, aside from the smog that often settled over certain parts of the city.

 

So when they returned from the store with Shine’s small bounty tucked in his pocket, Shine took the ladder up to the roof, Valen behind him, and they lifted two of the kitchen chairs up and out into the open air. Shine settled them somewhere close to the edge of the roof, close enough he could put his feet up on the ledge and stare at the blinking city lights from Valen’s district. And soon Valen followed, the pockets of his cardigan weighed down with two beer bottles, one for each of them. Valen seldom drank, but Shine had asked for a six-pack, and it seemed Valen decided to join him in his indulgence.

 

As Valen settled beside him and popped the first one open, Shine pulled his own treat from his own pocket -- a pack of Marlboros like the kind he used to smoke, back when he smoked. Even the smell as he opened the pack was intoxicating, a scent that reminded him of a thousand long-gone days in the old apartment he’d shared with his mother.

 

He settled the cigarette between his lips, flicked a match and lit it, inhaling so deep he thought that smoke might seep through every pore and vein, might replace all the oxygen in his body. 

 

When he exhaled, he sank bodily down into the chair. “Oh Jesus  _ god _ ,” he moaned, and immediately took another deep drag. Valen was giving him a bemused smile, sipping his beer gently.

 

“I didn’t think you smoked,” Valen said.

 

“Used to,” Shine replied, very conscious of all the reasons he had stopped. “‘Fore ma got sick. You stay away from this shit, right?”

 

Valen nodded. “All my life.”

 

“Good,” Shine said, leveling a pointed finger at him, even as he set the cigarette between his teeth. “Keep it that way, I mean it.” He breathed in deep, and let out another exhale, feeling better and calmer already. He flicked the ash off the roof; it tumbled and wafted down to the asphalt, like snow.

 

Before Valen could fill the silence between them, Shine regarded the cigarette between his fingers. “Y’ain’t mad at me for fallin’ off the horse?” he asked.

 

“What horse?”

 

“You know. I quit the cigarettes and all ages ago.”

 

“Such weird expressions,” Valen mused, shaking his head. “No, no, you can just get -- back. On the horse? Is that right?”

 

“Right,” Shine said with a smile. “And I plan on it, promise. Special circumstances and all.”

 

“Right,” Valen agreed, though as yet he still didn’t know what those circumstances were. He had gone along with Shine this whole weekend anyway. Shine owed him something. 

 

“Let’s play a game,” Shine said suddenly. “Tell me something you ain’t never told a soul.”

 

He took a drag, and glanced at Valen out of the side of his eyes. Valen was so handsome in the shadow, just the light from the studio sign below them casting him in warm yellow hues. The shadows brought out the cut of his cheeks, the strong and sure set of his lips -- even as he looked a little uncertain.

 

“Well,” he began, leaning back in the chair and crossing his ankle over his leg. “You’ve got to promise not to tell another living being,” he said, and Shine grinned around his smoke.

 

“You have my word,” he said.

 

“I hate cabbage,” Valen said as though it were his deepest regret. “It tastes like plaster, feels plastic, even when you cook it, salt it -- nothing helps. Never could stand the stuff. That’s why they kicked me out of Ireland, you see.”

 

Shine snorted. “Come on, they didn’t kick you out,” he whined, but Valen shook his head.

 

“No, but they would’ve if they’d known. Thank the good lord I’m fond of potatoes or I’d be a lost cause for certain.”

 

Laughing, Shine nudged Valen’s foot with his own. “I’m real glad you trusted me with that, big guy. Real big of you to admit it.” 

 

“Well it came from the heart,” Valen said in a deadpan, taking a small sip of his beer. They were silent for a moment and Valen glanced over to him. “You said it was a game?”

 

“Yeah,” Shine said, suddenly remembering the point of it all. “Yeah, you tell me a secret, I tell you a secret, and so on.” 

 

Valen nodded sagely. “Alright, those rules are a damn sight simpler than I expected from you, I’ll tell ya that much. What’s your secret, then?”

 

Shine thought back on all the terrible, shameful things he’d done in his life, realizing few were secrets and few even caused him shame. “I’ve always lied about the reason I started playin’ violin,” Shine admitted with a laugh and a shake of his head. “Just a _ little _ lie. You know that quartet I saw in the park when I was 10? My, ah, origin story? It wasn't so much the violin I got obsessed with. More the -- the violinist. Handsome guy, wore a white suit, had real nice dark hair. I can still see him clear as day if I close my eyes. Ma thought I was going on about him all those months ‘cause I wanted a violin myself. Didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise -- don’t think I even  _ knew _ otherwise. So when she gave me that violin I figured if I played it I could be more like that guy. Thank goodness I ended up loving the damn thing.” 

 

He puffed his cigarette a few times to keep the ember burning, watching it glow in time with his breath. “Your turn,” he said around a mouthful of smoke.

 

Valen let out a breath himself, staring over the parking lot. “You know how I started out as a home baby?”

 

They hadn’t discussed Valen’s childhood much, but Shine knew he had basically grown up in an orphanage before that old farmer had adopted him. Valen didn’t like to talk about the past. “Yeah, you've mentioned it,” Shine prompted.

 

“The nuns named me after St. Valentine,” Valen continued, “and one of the ladies who delivered me apparently added Siobhan. They used to tell me I reminded her of her daughter. Didn’t cry coming out of the womb.”

 

Shine stared at him for a moment. “Wait, your ma didn’t even  _ name _ you?” 

 

Shaking his head, Valen plucked at the label of the beer bottle where he held it in his lap. “No, no,” he said. “She was quite ready to be rid of me after nine months.” His little smile felt honest to Shine, but he wondered how Valen could say something like that so casually. “So that’s where the name comes from, in casin’ you thought it was an odd one. Because it is.” 

 

“If they named you after Saint Valentine, why ain’t your name Valentine?” Shine asked almost indignantly.

 

With a thoughtful pause, Valen looked up, as if searching his memory for a file that didn’t exist. “Huh, I suppose I never really thought of that. My name might have been Valentine, but they only ever called me Valen. Wouldn’t blame them for shortening it.”

 

“Wait,” Shine said, holding up a hand. “I’m sorry, you ain’t even sure what your real name is?”

 

Valen shrugged. “Nor my birthday, either. I know I left the home when I was, oh, five or six. Mr. McGreggor told me I was born in August, but I don’t know how he could’ve known, or why he would’ve cared to find out.” 

 

Shine nearly hopped out of his chair, but managed to restrain himself. “You don’t even know how  _ old _ you are? How are you so calm about this?” 

 

“It doesn’t rightly matter now, does it?” Shine stared at him and Valen let out a little chuckle, presumably at the look on Shine’s face. “1952, 1953; Valen, Valentine; it’s all small differences, Shine.”

 

Shine settled back in his seat, taking another drag of his cigarette and looking out over the city. When he exhaled, he shook his head. “Just feels important to me,” he said. “You ever get sad thinkin’ of it?” 

 

Valen waved him away. “Now, that’s been plenty of questions for me, hasn’t it? Your turn.”

 

“Hey we never made up any rules,” Shine reminded him. Valen shrugged.

 

“I’m makin’ ‘em up now,” he said with a smile. “Your turn.”

 

Shine huffed. “Alright, alright, but I’m gonna ask you about it later,” he said. He held out his hand and made a childish little grabbing motion. “Beer first.” 

 

Valen set his own beer on the ground and pulled the second from the pocket of his sweater. When he popped its cap and handed it over, Shine brushed his fingers as he took it, a little nonverbal expression of gratitude. 

 

“Okay, next secret. Um…” he paused, considered it. “I guess I feel bad for never finishing school,” Shine admitted. “It was crazy dumb to drop out a few months before graduation, you know? But I was pretty sure graduation wasn’t on the table for me, and I was thinkin’ I’d go out on my terms. I’m good at one thing, and I always been good at one thing. Back then I figured I’d just do the one thing forever, which I guess worked out okay, yeah? But you know, should’a at least finished. Makes me feel like a moron most days.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Valen said. “You can go back; that can happen anytime.”

 

“Hey now, you can’t be all sweet to me about this, that ain’t how the game works.”

 

“Now  _ you’re _ making up rules?”

 

“Might as fuckin well,” Shine said, holding up his bottle as if in cheers before taking a sip. Valen inclined his head and held up his own. “So next secret,” Shine said. “And it’s gotta be a good one, right?”

 

With a little snort, Valen looked into his bottle. “I suppose my secret is a bit like your own. Now, you see, I never started school to begin with. I was homeschooled, so to speak.” Shine knew that in as much detail as he knew about most of Valen's childhood: very little. “And then went right into the military, soon as I turned 18. I don’t even know what a real school would be like, excepting of course I’ve seen a movie or two.”

 

“I don’t even know what a  _ home _ school would be like, and they don’t make no movies about that,” Shine said. “Did you have a teacher? Or did your dad -- sorry, Mr. McGreggor -- just give you books or whatever?”

 

“Oh, you know,” Valen said, gesturing a little. “Wake up, feed the pigs, feed the cows, fix a fence, break for lunch and maybe have some time to work on your maths before goin’ back out and doing it again.”

 

“How’d you turn out so damn smart, then?” Shine asked.

 

“I didn’t think about sex or datin’ until I met you. That probably helped,” Valen said, and Shine snorted, covering his nose lest any beer dribble out. “And to be fair, I’m a pretty big idiot, actually. Given my size, I’m probably the biggest idiot you know.” He gestured down the length of his admittedly large body, and Shine laughed. He held up his bottle again.

 

“To a big couple’a idiots, then,” he said in toast, and Valen clinked his bottle against Shine’s. 

 

“Your turn again,” Valen said after taking a swig. 

 

“Did that one count?” Shine asked.

 

“‘Course it did. Don’t go changin’ the rules again now.”

 

Shine took a final drag of his cigarette. Then, flicking the butt down into the parking lot, he exhaled a long breath of smoke. “Alright,” he said. “We’re getting into the deep shit now. Sure you don’t wanna turn around? Swim back to shore?”

 

“Not on your life,” Valen said sweetly. “Swim on, my little merman.”

 

Laughing, Shine regarded the beer in his hands, the silhouette of his fingers in the amber glass. He forced himself to keep smiling as he began to speak. “Alright, well then here’s a doozy for ya. Every time I go to visit my ma, I tell her all the big things I’m doing. The tours and the recording sessions and all. I tell her how much money I got in the bank, down to the penny. She never saw me make it, you know. Died before I even got an album out.” He paused, contemplative, his smile slipping. “And, uh, you know, I wonder sometimes if she regretted having me at all. I know she loved me, ‘course she did, but she lived a hell of a life before I came along. Music festivals and travelin’ the country and meeting new people every other day. Then I pop out and all of a sudden she’s gotta work two jobs and live on the streets and scrape by day-to-day only for her pride and joy to turn into a queer junkie.” 

 

He set the beer down on the concrete and pulled the cigarettes out of his pocket again, figuring if he was ever going to chain smoke now was the time. He’d be on the horse again tomorrow. Hell or high water. But, for now, he lit up again, already feeling a long-missed scratch in the back of his throat.

 

“Now I know I’m not allowed to ‘be sweet’ or whatever it is your rule was,” Valen said. “But you know I’m going to bring that up later, right? Point-by-point?” Shine gave him a little smile and took a long drag.

 

“I know, big guy,” he said. “Your turn.”

 

Valen’s expression was a little tight when he uncrossed his legs, setting his hands in his lap with the half-drunk beer hanging limply between his fingers. “I used to be a skinny lad,” he said, and Shine smiled.

 

“I seen that adorable fucking picture you got on your dresser in there,” he said, “that ain’t no secret.”

 

Valen smiled. “That wasn’t the secret. So impatient, Shine.”

 

Gesturing for him to continue with his cigarette, Shine drew the fingers of his other hand over his lips like zipping a zipper. Valen chuckled and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “As I was sayin’, I used to be a skinny lad. Then, you know, I got big.” He lifted his arms a little as if to illustrate. “And it was after I got big I realized I wasn’t, oh, allowed to be angry anymore. You see, when you’re a skinny lad you can shout and wail and flail your arms about, but no one will see it happenin’ and fear for their lives. But when you’re my size …” he shrugged. “I speak softly so I don’t scare anyone. I can’t raise my voice or even look too stern without intimidating someone. I don’t even get mad in traffic. And a part of me really misses being angry. I’m not sayin’ I want to be a monster, shouting and hollering all the time. But I’m still that skinny lad in everything but shape. And size,” he added with a sad little smile. 

 

“What do you mean you aren’t allowed to be angry?” Shine said, entirely uncomprehending. “‘Course you can get angry. Everyone gets angry sometimes.”

 

“Let me put it this way, Shine,” Valen said, hands curling tighter around the bottle in his hand. “If you were to get up right now, start screaming and yelling, throw that bottle at the ground or whatever, I’d think ‘well, that little queen’s upset. Might need to calm the fella down.’ If I were to do that, the neighbors would call the police second they saw me. And now -- right now -- if I were to shout, yell, god forbid clench my fist in anger, you’d be terrified of me for the rest of your life. I get sick to my stomach think’n that I might lose my temper someday -- in traffic or while I’m cooking or over politics--- and you’ll never be able to look at me again.”

 

Shine could feel Valen’s sadness at the thought as he watched the yellow light gleam in Valen’s eyes. And the worst part was, he wasn’t sure he could tell Valen he was wrong. Valen  _ was _ a big man, and Shine had been on the receiving end of the anger of big men enough times to know how it felt. He couldn’t very well say that Valen’s anger wouldn’t scare him. Even the idea of that anger made him uncomfortable.

 

“Oh,” he said, and he took a long drag of his cigarette to buy himself more time to think of a better response. But when he exhaled, he still didn’t know what to say. “Oh,” he settled on again.

 

Valen sat up, setting his beer down on the ground and flexing his hands. “The worst part is … I worry the fact I miss being angry makes me a bad person. I wish I could shout sometimes, really let it out how I am really feeling. I -- I get jealous of the way you feel things, sometimes, Shine.” 

 

“You ain’t a bad person,” Shine rushed to reassure him, though reassurances were banned by his own decree. Damn it, he made the rules. “You’re the best person I ever met, and I mean that. I been living around snakes and shitholes my whole life, and you’re -- I mean it when I say it, you’re the  _ best _ person I ever met.”

 

“Compared to the snakes and shitholes?” Valen asked, trying for a smile. Shine turned fully in his seat and flicked the cigarette away carelessly. He reached out and took one of Valen’s hands, without giving Valen the chance to draw it away first.

 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, and Valen held his hand in return, tight -- but gentle. 

 

“Aye, I know,” he said. They were quiet for a moment, Shine stroking Valen’s fingers gently. Those big, rough hands Shine loved so much. It was true, he couldn’t imagine these hands clenched into fists, nor could he imagine that soft voice raised in anger. And maybe that was a failing on his part, because he valued Valen’s gentle nature so much, and never thought about the sacrifice it took to be so calm, controlled. Careful.

 

“Your turn,” Valen said, and Shine looked up to him, the game nearly forgotten. No follow up, no reassurances. Silly spur-of-the-moment rules.

 

“Can we come back to this one, too? You know, when we come back to things, and all. When you tell me I ain’t disappointed my ma and I ask you all about bein'a home baby?”

 

Valen huffed. “If you’d like,” he said. Shine gave him a little smile. Part of him wanted to revisit it all now, avoid the one thing he had left to tell, but he’d started this game for a reason, hadn’t he? Because Valen had been so patient, so tender, so considerate this whole weekend, allowing Shine to take over his life for a few brief days. And Shine owed him something. If nothing else, an explanation. 

 

“So, your turn then?” Valen asked, offering Shine an out in the question, if Shine needed to take it. If Shine decided he wasn’t ready.

 

Shine held Valen’s hand a little tighter, looked down, and he wondered by the way Valen gripped him back if Valen knew this was it. The whole reason he was even here.

 

“Okay,” Shine said. “Yeah. Here goes, then. When, uh,” Shine paused, focused on tracing the swirls of Valen’s fingerprints. “Weird to talk about it. But, um, when I was 17, I started seeing this guy. Older guy by a good lotta years. Bigshot, fancy lawyer type. Used to watch me play the subways.” The memories rose up in his throat like bile. Oh god, but it hurt to talk about Harry.

 

Hearing more in Valen’s silence than even Valen likely intended, Shine looked up to him. “Now don’t think too bad about him. He didn’t know I was just a kid. I told him I was 20 -- I was a better liar back then, I think.” He tacked this on with a little smile. Valen mirrored that smile, giving Shine the courage to keep going. “We was together about six -- six months. Feels a lot longer than that when you’re a teenager, let me tell you. I really … loved him. The way you love your first love when you’re barely outta puberty and all.”

 

“And he was good to you?” Valen asked, because the exes Valen knew of hadn’t been, and Valen really was so damn smart. Smart enough to know that Shine needed to stress that Harry  _ was _ a good man.

 

“Real good,” Shine said. “He was …” he paused. “Gentle.” Valen gave a little ‘hmm’ of understanding, and Shine swallowed, looking back to Valen’s hand and taking it in both of his own this time, stroking each finger from base to tip. “He left me high and dry, though. Didn’t even say goodbye. Broke my heart, if I’m being honest. Silly to say it now, but you know.” It took him a moment to continue. All of this was long in the past, and Shine had cried it all out of his system years ago. That wasn’t the part that stung. He just didn’t know how he could put the rest of it into words.

 

“His name was Harry,” he said, having not said the name aloud in years. It felt strange now. “Harold Patterson. Senator Harold Patterson, after a while. Fancy, right? Real fucking bigshot.”

 

Valen stiffened immediately, and Shine could feel it in his hand. Shine had wondered over the last two days if Valen -- who listened to National Public Radio with the attention and dedication most people gave to sermons -- had already heard the news about New York’s young senator, gone too soon. If all this time Valen knew the reason for Shine’s sadness without realizing it.

 

“He died. Thursday night, I guess,” Shine finished, the words coming out shaky. But they came out. He’d said it aloud, at least. And that was it. The end of their story. He died.

 

“Would you like to tell me about him?” Valen asked gently, and Shine swallowed, looking up to him. 

 

“I -- yeah, maybe that'd be. Good. Even when we was dating it was a secret,” he said. “I, uh --” he tightened his lips, blinked past the sting in his eyes, and sniffed as he looked away. “Ma’s the only one who ever knew about him. Mentioned him to Martha but she don't know who he is -- was.  _ Fuck _ . And I mean it’d been real years since I’d seen him. I never thought I’d see him again, and that was -- that was fine. But you know. I always knew he was still out there, right? And I kept up with shit. I was -- I was real proud of him, a lot of ways, even when I hated his guts. That make sense?”

 

“It does,” Valen said. He waited.

 

“And, uh, y'see,” Shine said, fingers tightening around Valen's own, “the  _ way _ he died…” Valen squeezed back. He knew. He must have heard it. He knew.

 

“I just keep thinking it … Harry was  _ so _ careful. And I never was. Not like him. Sure I was safe as I could be when I fucked around, but I still fucked around. Drugs and sex and everything. He probably made  _ one _ mistake. Just one. And I made a lifetime of ‘em and he's dead and I'm here and I got  _ you _ \--” he paused, trying to speak past the choke in his throat as he tasted the salt of a tear on his lips. “And that's a fucking miracle I don't deserve. And he was making the world a better place or whatever while I was … fucking around.” He let out a hollow laugh, dragged his sleeve under his nose. “And anyway,” he said. “It should'a been me and it wasn't and its killin’ me to think about is all.”

 

He couldn't quite bring himself to look at Valen in the following silence, even when it stretched for interminable moments. Shine considered letting go of Valen’s hand, grabbing his beer, lighting up another smoke and pretending he hadn’t said a word. They’d move on from this like they’d moved on from the other secrets. But he didn’t move, and eventually Valen did speak.

 

“You remember,” Valen said quietly, “when I told you I took that bullet to the back?” Shine did raise his eyes to him, then. It was when Valen was in the army, though that was the only detail Shine had been given. 

 

“Yeah?” He asked.

 

“The man beside me that day also caught a bullet. Only it was to the neck. I knew that fella, we were in training together. He had a family, a wife and parcel of children. I never felt so unimportant as that day,” Valen said, his knee bouncing in place, the only hint he showed that this was difficult to talk about. But he did for Shine. 

 

“I thought for a long time that should’ve been me. Years. Sometimes it still hits me, uninvited. ‘It should have been me’, I say to myself, ‘he should be with his kids, instead of me sittin’ here alone in an old garage, worthless to the world.’” He raised his face to look at Shine, searching for something in his boyfriend's expression. “I assume you disagree?”

 

Shine stared at him, having imagined a thousand times this weekend alone what the world would be like without Valen. He couldn’t even bear to imagine it now, when they’d both flayed open their nerves and bared their secrets to each other. His expression, it seemed, was answer enough.

 

Valen said with a small shrug, “It is alright to feel like it is wrong and it is alright to not understand why it happened.”

 

Shine bit the inside of his cheek, patting Valen’s hand. “But all the good he could’a done --”

 

“Perhaps what you need to do is to change your perspective, beloved,” Valen assured him, scooting forward a little so the space narrowed between them. Shine’s eyes shot up to him at the pet name. He’d never -- never said that before.

 

“It doesn’t have to be you versus him, does it? Harry did what he could with the time he was given. You do good with yours. You have more, he had less, there is no you or him. We all sort of -- ricochet off each other, don’t we? Harry was here and he loved you. Now he is gone and you are left to take that love he gave you and pass it along to someone new.”

 

With a little, sad smile, Shine stared at the ground. “Is that what you done?” he asked, “with your time, I mean.”

 

“That’s hard to say, Shine,” Valen replied. “I always think I could be a better man. Who am I to say what quantifies one, anyhow?” 

 

“From where I’m standin’ you couldn’t get any better,” Shine said, sniffling a little bit and smiling. “But I get what you mean. Thing is, I been trying a little to do better myself, you know? But, see, I got this idea…” He paused, shook his head, began playing with Valen’s fingers again. “I got this idea to do some good, maybe? Figured I might ask what you thought about it.”

 

“Alright,” Valen said, squeezing him. “What’s your idea, then?”

 

Shine glanced back toward the city, the twilight, then brought his eyes to Valen’s. It was something he should have done ages ago, when it was just him. When he was the only one on the line. But now he had Valen, and he  _ hoped _ to have Valen for a long, long time. Whatever happened from here on out would affect them both. 

 

But Valen was in his corner. Valen was here and Valen cared for him. And Shine needed to do something to deserve that gift. To earn the time he had been given.

  
  


* * *

 

**April, 1986**

 

“And we’re back with our special guest, Shine.” Pause for applause -- a celebratory, raucous applause from a darkened studio audience Shine couldn't see past the lights. He pretended to rake his eyes over them, smiling brightly for the cameras. “You’ve been keeping very busy these last few weeks, Shine,” the interviewer said when the applause died down. Susan, her name was, host of a daily morning talk show that seemed to play on every TV set in every public space in America. But each time her network had approached him for an interview, it was for the sake of celebrity gossip. To talk about who he was dating or to dig up his past. He had refused every invitation, until now.

 

This morning, she wore a peach dress, which brought out the blush on her cheeks, overdone for the sake of the cameras. Her blonde hair curled up on her head like a sleeping cat, and Shine smiled at her, conscious of the red recording light watching him like the glowing eye of a beast in the woods. This was live, broadcast all over the nation. He was nervous.

 

“I’m busy all the time,” he said, leaning back in his armchair and crossing his legs, ankle over knee. “But you’re talking about the benefit shows, yeah?” He laid his hands over his stomach, trying to look as unconcerned as possible. 

 

She nodded, leaning in with her elbow over the armrest of her seat. “Three in three weeks, and another tonight. All over New York City. You announced them all pretty suddenly, with no plans for a tour on the horizon. Why was that?”

 

Shrugging, Shine gave her a little charming grin. “Why else? Element of surprise. Got butts in the seats, didn’t it? Sold out every one of ‘em.”

 

“How much money have you raised so far?”

 

Shine pretended to think about the numbers, like he hadn’t been running them over in his head every single day, wondering if it would be enough, if any amount of money would be enough to end a genocide. To make up for his own 27 years of silence.

 

“Three million, 241 thousand, 695 bucks,” he said. “And 12 cents.”

 

“And you’re donating all of it?”

 

“Every penny,” Shine said, nearly offended at the question. “Paying for the concerts outta pocket if you gotta know. Not like I’m hurting for bread.”

 

“I suppose not,” she said, and Shine felt her gearing up for it. He’d been through enough interviews to know when the host thought they had something on him. When the interviewer thought they’d get their golden few moments out of his presence on their show, or in their paper. Sometimes they did, but Shine had openly discussed and owned up to nearly every aspect of his life and past -- including the drugs -- and the true ‘gotcha’ moments were few and far between.

 

Susan may get a golden moment if she asked what he hoped she would ask, but she wouldn’t be surprising him.

 

“You’ve really thrown yourself into the cause,” she started, leaning back slightly. Trying to make him comfortable. “Are you at all concerned that people may wonder why?”

 

“Why what?” He asked, though he knew.

 

“Why raise all this money for AIDS research?” she said, finally hitting her bullseye. “Why not, oh, feed orphans in Uganda? Why not build homes in Mexico?”

 

Shine leaned forward, elbows on his knees, catching her eyes and holding them. “‘Cause this is happening in our backyard,” he said. “‘Cause I lost friends. I ain’t made no secret I used to be an addict.”

 

“Right,” she said. “Of course.” Shine heard the ‘but’ coming a mile away. “But the virus most widely affects homosexual men. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that you --”

 

“I been hearing those rumors since I started on the scene,” Shine said, straightening. “You can’t wear as much body glitter as me without someone suggesting you bat for the other team.” The nerves rose up in him again, even as the audience chuckled. Why? Why be nervous when he’d never once been ashamed of who he was? Why be nervous when he had anticipated this, planned for it, rehearsed it? He wasn’t worried about losing record sales. He wasn’t worried about losing fame. Maybe it was just because he still held shame, even after everything -- the residual shame of a society that loved the flashy pop star but would hate the only secret he had left.

 

“So, forgive me for asking, Shine, but I’m sure my viewers are dying to know after all this sudden advocacy,” Susan paused meaningfully. “ _ Are _ you a homosexual?”

 

Shine snorted. Her viewers were entirely the reason he decided to come out on this show. He didn’t want a single person in the U.S. to miss this news.

 

“No,” he said decisively, and Susan looked disappointed for all of a second. “I’m bisexual, if you gotta know. Dated men and women my whole life.” The audience murmured, and Shine wondered how many people across the nation were shutting off their television sets right now, lest their children find out their favorite pop star was a queer. He wondered how many were staring at the screen in shock. And he wondered how many were getting ready to cash in on bets they’d made as far back as 1982 when he’d first made a name for himself. He had always been a little too queer to be written off as simply eccentric.

 

Susan’s expression was on tight lockdown, a pleasant interview smile, but Shine could tell from the way she shifted forward that this was exactly the kind of gossip she had been praying for. “You’ve always been tight-lipped about your love life,” she said. “Are you in a relationship now?”

 

He had asked Valen that night on the roof, holding his hand and staring into the emerald shine of his eyes, if he could out them both, publicly, on national television. After Valen’s romantic ‘I don’t see why not,’ Shine really couldn’t resist. 

 

Shine felt a little smile tic his lips, the thought of Valen comforting him as if he were here in this room. “Yeah,” he said. “Got me a partner -- a hell of a partner. Beautiful damn vision of a man, let me tell ya. You can probably bet I ain’t gonna be tight-lipped about this guy.” 

 

Susan opened her mouth, presumably to ask after this partner, but Shine knew himself. He could talk about Valen for hours, and he only had a few minutes on Susan’s show. Before he let himself gush, let himself nurse his excitement, he had to remember the message he’d come here to send. 

 

“But,” he said before Susan could speak. “Listen, it ain’t important if I got a horse in this race or not. Don’t matter if I’m an addict or if I’m gay or bi or even if I was straight. We all got a responsibility to people.” He paused, and his thoughts turned as they so often did these days to Harry, dying alone in a hospital bed, knowing with his last breath he’d be outed by the disease that took him. “And there ain’t no one in this country who seems to care. So yeah I’m gonna play some benefit shows and I’m gonna sink my own money into whatever I gotta sink it into. And I’m gonna tell millions of people out there,” he gestured to the cameras, “that I got a man I care for. I ain’t a doctor. I ain’t a politician. All I got’s a stage. But we all gotta use what we got.”

 

“Well,” Susan said, by the look on her face realizing she had lost control of the interview. “Can you tell me why you’re doing this now? The AIDS virus has been a factor for years in your community.” 

 

Shine barely stopped himself from narrowing his eyes at her. He didn’t like her tone, but he seldom liked people’s tones when they discussed ‘his’ community. Not that he had much right to that caution. He had never been an active part of the gay world until now. Unless he counted taking advantage of their bars, and attending a ball or two with his friend Destiny.

 

But he didn’t want to go into all that with the few minutes he had left. “That’s a real good question, Susan,” he said. “Thing is, I should’a done this a long time ago. Wish I had. But wishin’ don’t do as much as -- you know, as  _ doing _ something, right? Thing is, a few weeks ago I lost someone who used to be real important to me.” 

 

His mind flashed with images of Harry’s -- no,  _ Senator Harold Patterson’ _ s funeral procession on TV, the American flag draped over his coffin on the news, the stiff faces of his family who must have known how he really died. Harry had once told Shine they’d never tolerate him being queer. Harry had once told Shine his father would kill him if he found out. 

 

Turned out he didn’t have to.

 

“And he was working to make things better.” 

 

_ “I’m trying,”  _ Harry had told him three years ago. 

 

_ “I know,” _ Shine had said.

 

“And if the world’s gonna lose a man like that, and if half of ‘em ain’t even gonna know how he died, then I guess it’s up to me to be loud about it.”

 

Susan’s eyes had gone a little wide. Shine settled back in his seat, feeling a little drained. “So, yeah. Anyway. That’s why I’m doing this now. The benefit shows, the -- well, tellin’ all’a you the one thing I ain’t told you yet.” He gestured to the audience, to the camera, to the world reading his open book of a life. “‘Cause I didn’t do it when it could’a helped someone I cared about.  _ Anyone _ I cared about. And the folks dying right now -- someone cares about them. I should’a -- I should’a done this a long time ago.”

 

And he should have. Thousands of deaths. The deaths of people he knew, people he could have known, people he loved and people he would have loved if he had ever met them. He might never recover from the shame that it took him so damn long to speak out, but at least he could try to make it right from here.

 

The silence in the studio echoed around him, the little red light on the cameras kept blinking, but somehow Shine didn’t feel like any weight had really left his chest.

 

* * *

 

**_And he’s out_ ** _ , _ read the headline on the cover of  _ Us Weekly _ . The subhead:  **_Shine reveals secret homosexual lifestyle_ ** _.  _ All written in bright red text, plastered over a B-roll photo of Shine from a shoot they’d done last year.

 

Then,  _ Entertainment Weekly _ :  **_The secret life of Shine, uncovered_ ** _ ,  _ featuring a candid shot of him heading out of Martha’s office building next to a man he didn’t even recognize. He supposed they’d try to pretend  _ that _ was his boyfriend.

 

The story was in  _ People _ magazine, too, and his name even made it into a headline on the cover of his own, beloved  _ Village Voice _ , each alternative paper, entertainment magazine and tabloid at the newsstand telling the same story. Some, helpfully, asked and answered questions ( **_What is bisexuality? Find out inside._ ** ) But most of them just focused on the sensation, speculated about his lovers (past and present), and -- occasionally -- mentioned the benefit concerts.

 

But, well, the point  _ had _ been to make headlines. The point had been to tell the truth and draw attention to a cause, and as Shine stood on that Maspeth sidewalk, chewing the last few bites of his shawarma as he read the racks, he supposed he had gotten what he wanted, more or less.

 

The more people like him who used their platform to tell their stories, the better the world would get. At least, he had to believe that. Maybe someone would see one of these magazines and see themselves in Shine’s story. Maybe someone would see one of these magazines and see that queers like him were just people. And they still lived and loved and made music and made tables and did whatever it was they did. 

 

Hopefully, these ‘maybe’s would help him weather the oncoming scandal storm.

 

As Shine crumpled up his foil in his hand and shoved it in his pocket, scanning the magazines, he felt a presence come up beside him. He turned on instinct to see Robbie, the stand’s owner, at his shoulder. Robbie had come off his usual perch on his nearby stool, and now stood next to Shine as if he, too, were perusing the racks. 

 

Robbie, a good couple inches shorter than Shine and infinitely rounder, looked up to him through his coke-bottle glasses, then back to the stand he had owned and manned Shine’s whole life.

 

And Shine’s face was all over it. Shine supposed coming out to millions of strangers meant coming out to a few familiar faces, too. 

 

“What’s up?” Shine asked. “You ain’t surprised, are ya?” Though, as he asked it, he felt a little nervous that Robbie’s answer might be ‘yes.’

 

Robbie paused as if considering the question, the spring wind blowing past them.

 

“Do you remember,” Robbie began, his voice made rough and deep by decades of cigarettes, “when you used to play around here? You and your friend -- Darren?” 

 

Shine felt himself smiling. While weekly exposure and fame had ensured Robbie never forgot  _ Shine _ , he didn’t think Robbie would’ve remembered his childhood friends. Though Darren -- who called himself Destiny now -- was certainly unforgettable in Shine’s opinion. “Yeah, ‘course I remember,” he said. “We drove you crazy. You used to throw shit at us.”

 

Robbie snorted, nodding like he couldn’t really deny it. “It was just yesterday’s newspapers; wasn’t like it was gonna hurt you,” he muttered. As Shine watched him, he removed his glasses, rubbing them on his chest as if to clear a speck of dust that didn’t actually exist. “But anyway,” Robbie said gruffly. “What I was  _ trying  _ to say. I remember thinking life was going to be hard for you two. You know, the way you know when life’s gonna be hard for a kid.” 

 

The smile slipped slightly, and Shine remembered, vaguely, his mother telling him something similar. That because of who he was, the kinds of people he could love, his life would be hard. But the hardship in Shine’s life hadn't come from love -- not in his experience. 

 

“You mean you knew we was a couple’a little queers, right?” Shine asked, trying to keep his tone light. The corner of Robbie’s mouth lifted, and he placed the glasses back on his nose. 

 

“The whole neighborhood knew.”

 

Shine laughed, rubbing his forehead. “Figured,” he said. 

 

“Thing is,” Robbie continued, “I’m glad I was wrong. Not about you.” He gestured to the magazines. “But I thought the world was gonna beat you down like it usually does. I’m glad it didn’t. You -- you’ve done good, kid.”

 

A hand came to rest on Shine’s back, patting him twice before falling, and Shine actually looked in both directions to be sure that it had been _ Robbie _ who touched him. And it  _ had _ been. When he met Robbie’s eyes, he saw a smile hidden under those wrinkles carved from decades of scowling. All Shine could bring himself to feel was shock, though he knew if he had time to digest anything Robbie had said, he might actually cry.

 

“You ain’t never said more than five words to me at a time since I was eight years old,” Shine marveled, putting a hand on his hip while Robbie sheepishly glanced away. “And those five words is usually ‘You gonna pay for that.’”

 

Robbie shrugged and turned back to his stool, where he’d left his magazine with its pages flapping in the wind. “Yeah, well, you usually do all the talking for me, kid,” he said.

 

Grinning, Shine turned away from the rows of papers and magazines, grabbed  _ The Village Voice  _ on instinct, like he always did, and headed back over to Robbie as the man hefted himself back into his seat. 

 

He wanted to ask if Robbie thought any differently of him now, but the answer was in the little smile Robbie wore. Fishing into his pocket, Shine grabbed a couple dollar bills and handed them over.

 

Robbie took them, but laid his other hand over Shine’s before Shine had the chance to pull away. “This partner of yours,” Robbie asked quietly. “He’s good to you?” 

 

Surprised, Shine nearly drew back, but the question had been an honest one. “The best,” he replied, repaying that honesty with his own. “Couldn’t ask for more.” 

 

Patting his hand a few times, Robbie released it and nodded. “Good. It isn’t an easy world for -- for men like us. I’m glad you found someone, kid.”

 

Us. Men like  _ us _ .

 

Shine’s eyes blew wide open, and suddenly his mind had to go through the immediate and massive task of rewriting two decades of history about someone he thought he knew. Had Robbie ben a ‘man like us’ all this time? How had Shine never  _ known _ ? 

 

“Thanks, Robbie,” he said softly, knowing his face would betray his surprise, and hoping that surprise didn’t offend. Not everyone, Shine supposed, was as obvious as he himself was.

 

Robbie nodded, pocketing the money. “You say hi to your ma for me,” he said, nodding in the direction of the cemetery. “And bring this man of yours around sometime.”

 

A smile made its way to Shine’s lips. “I will,” he said. “He’s been to visit ma before but, you know, didn’t bring him around here. Didn’t know how you might… might feel, and all.”

 

Robbie’s lips quirked. “Now you know.”

 

With a little laugh, Shine held out his arms, at a complete loss. “I guess I fuckin’ do! You -- you’re a sly old man, you know? I don’t surprise easy, me.” When Robbie laughed in return, Shine thought he might as well have seen a unicorn. He couldn’t wait to get to his ma’s grave. Couldn’t wait to share this with her. Had she known? Did anyone?

 

“I like to keep a few secrets,” Robbie said softly. “Now go on, I’ve got a magazine to finish.” He flapped his hand at Shine like he used to do, a familiar gesture without any of the malice Shine had come to associate with it.

 

“You have a good day then, Robbie,” Shine said. “I’ll see you next week.”

 

Robbie nodded and Shine turned away, his heart hammering with a kind of astonished glee he had trouble putting a name to. But just as he took his first step down the concrete, Robbie called out.

 

“Oh, and Shine?” Shine turned, surprised to hear Robbie use his name. He  _ never  _ did.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Sorry,” Robbie said. “About your friend. The senator, right?” Shine’s eyes widened. 

 

“How did you --” but, of course, in a way Robbie had been the first one Shine had told. It didn’t take a genius to notice how he’d acted in the face of those headlines. It didn’t take someone who’d known him since he was a kid to understand what had shaken him so badly. Defenses falling, just slightly, Shine swallowed.

 

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m sorry, too.” And he was. But the thing about being sorry was it only mattered if you did something about it. He’d made amends to Harry once in his life -- when he’d returned the violin to him. Now, he’d do it again. Make amends to Harry and all the other people suffering while he played his music, found love, and lived on.

 

He and Robbie shared one final, parting nod, and Shine wondered if he was right in suspecting there was pride in Robbie’s expression, somewhere underneath that gruff, grizzled exterior, the days of stubble and the wrinkled forehead. 

 

Pride, it seemed, could come from the unlikeliest of places. A newsstand, a pop star, a crowd of 20,000 at a benefit concert. And, hell, if it was loud enough, pride could make all the difference in a fight against shame. A fight that maybe no one, and least of all Shine, had quite learned how to win.


End file.
